Just Another Day at Work
by Drazzles
Summary: Just a day in the factory in the lives of little Charlie Bucket and Willy Wonka. My first story. I'm a newbie, BUT I HAVE POTENTIAL! Oneshot. Omg I JUST learned what that meant, I'm so excited!


Just Another Day at Work

Charlie softly knocked the little white ball into a hole in front of him.

"Bravo! Well done!" cried Wonka appraisingly.

"I wasn't nearly a foot away," chuckled Charlie.

"Better than being a foot away and missing," replied Wonka heading over to his bag to pick out the perfect club. In his enormous factory, Willy Wonka had just about everything. The Molding Room where candies were twisted into thousands of different shapes and sizes, the Target Practice room where the oompa loompas shot marshmallow bits into the chocolate, and a Miniature Golf room. Charlie wasn't sure what, if any, possible purpose this could have for Wonka (especially having only found other human company but a year ago), but he knew if he were to ask, his friend would be able to come up with a reason, and a good one at that. One of the many reasons Charlie admired him.

"Mr. Wonka?"

"Heh?" he answered vaguely, examining a golf club that very much resembled a twirled up toffee.

Charlie paused, thinking about the best way to ask this question that had been somewhat irking him for a while. "Have you. . . have you ever fallen in love?"

"Nope," said Wonka, practice swinging the club a bit, then shaking his head and taking out another.

"You never wanted to get married? Not even when you were young?" he asked, surprised by the man's immediate answer.

Wonka looked up. "I really don't think I'd like that kind of commitment Charlie!" he said in disgust, "I'd be like Julia Roberts in that movie. . ."

". . . R-Runaway Bride?" Charlie asked, perplexed.

"That's the one!" he exclaimed pointing at Charlie. "Only. . ." he giggled, "I wouldn't be wearing a dress. . ." He went back to practice swinging his club. "You know I've got. . . 'issues' with people," He said softly, though loud enough to stay clear of mumbling. Mr. Wonka hated mumblers.

Charlie nodded. "Like the day of the tour, and you had to go on stage. I thought you were going to be sick. . ." Charlie paused, remembering, then chuckled. "And your little 'speach'." Suddenly he burst into fits of giggles.

Wonka frowned a bit of a pout. "It wasn't that funny," he murmered defensively.

"_Good morning Starshine! The Earth says, Hello!"_ Charlie mimicked through laughter.

Wonka shifted his feet but smiled reluctantly. "I was nervous."

Charlie caught his breath. ". . .talk about first impressions. The other kids seemed annoyed and I think their parents were thoroughly frightened," he said with a chuckle.

"Were you annoyed?" Wonka's voice almost had a worried tone.

Charlie frowned. "No. I'd hear too many storied of the brilliant Willy Wonka and his extraordinary Chocolate Factory. I was in too much awe to think anything else."

Wonka's pale cheeks blushed ever so slightly. He tapped his ball down the hill. "Well, that's good to know. And I didn't like those people back!" he said in his naturally childish voice. "Those naughty children got themselves into so much gosh darned trouble! And their pbmh-. . . pmh. . ." His voice strained and he bit his lip. It really was a pity, Charlie thought, that even after making peace with his father, Mr. Wonka still had trouble saying family related words such as "parents". But Charlie supposed he would always be like that. It was as much a part of him as his oversized top hat.

"Mmmoms and dads. . ." Wonka continued, looking back down at the game once again, "they were really weird."

Charlie smiled. He remembered when he was among the crowd watching a series of dolls sing, until they exploded in one big spark of light, followed by a few catching fire and melting in the most ghastly way. He remembered a man on the far right in oversized goggles clapping and giggling then walking to the stage. He remembered thinking, _Who _is_ this guy? How odd. _And he remembered the man in a high pitched voice introducing himself, "My name. . . is Willy Wonka!" reading off a cue card, breathing far too heavily to keep his cool. Charlie giggled under his breath.

Suddenly Wonka stood straight up and looked at Charlie. "Do you know how to play this?"

Charlie glanced around at the miscellaneous holes and tees specking the grassy area, in the rather un-orderly fashion they were. He shook his head.

"Me neither! Let's go!" He dropped his club where he stood and started hiking up the hill.

"What about the stuff?" asked Charlie, still holding his club.

Wonka turned around. "Oh just leave it there, and the oompa loompas will pick it up later. They just live to put away chess equipment."

"But this is golf," Charlie pointed out.

"Yes, they like that too. Now come on! Let's head over to the Inventing Room! I've got something new ta show ya!" he cried excitedly. He always got excited when it came to new inventions. And Willy Wonka's excitement was, as you would learn once you spent time with the darling character, very contagious.

"I'm coming!" Charlie called dropping his club. It was a miracle he could ever keep up with the man, who was already a good yard away. He supposed all that sugar helped with his everlasting amount of energy quite a bit though, especially in such a ridiculously large place as the Chocolate Factory. He'd need it.

Charlie finally caught up with Wonka, who had made it out of the Mini Golf Room and had now slowed down, admiring the scenes of the Chocolate Room.

"I thought we were going to the Inventing Room," panted Charlie.

"We are!" said Wonka, still beaming, not turning his attention towards anything in particular.

"But the Great Glass Elevator is that way," he replied pointing the opposite direction.

"Well I thought we'd take the boat today! It's not often I get to take the boat ya know. Not when I have the Great Glass Elevator, there really never seems to be a reason."

"But. . . how are we going to move?" Charlie asked puzzled. "There aren't any oompa loompas in it; we can't possibly row it ourselves."

"Oh don't you worry! Just hop in. I'll be right back," he said when they reached the boat. Charlie got in and watched as Wonka skipped (yes, skipped) over to a marshmallow mushroom. He tapped it with his cane, and it toppled over, revealing a big bright shiny pink button. Wonka turned around to face Charlie. "Now watch this," he said with a very deranged look on his face. He pushed the button down very carefully with all four fingers, then rushed back to the boat like he was running on hot sand, hopping from one foot to the other. "Hold on!" he squealed.

There was a rumble behind them. Charlie looked over to see the Chocolate Waterfall, which was usually very calm and serene, used only to mix and churn up the chocolate seeming to clog up for a moment. There was another deeper rumble as the candy rock around the waterfall began to tremble, then, like a flame finally reaching the spark of a New Year's rocket, there was a huge explosion of chocolate from the waterfall's mouth, shooting a wave out under the pink candy boat and sending it roaring down and into the dark tunnel.

Charlie, wide eyed, was gripping the seat rail in front of him as the boat whizzed through the pitch black tunnel. Wonka, as you'd expect, was clapping and laughing and bouncing in his seat with pure joy, having the time of his life.

"Lights!" shouted Wonka over the roar of the chocolate around them. There was a flicker and the lights around the edges of the circular tunnel came on. It was then that Charlie saw the doors alongside as last time. "DAIRY CREAM, WHIPPED CREAM, VIOLET CREAM, COFFEE CREAM, PINEAPPLE CREAM, VANILLA CREAM, AND HAIR CREAM." Charlie glanced up at Wonka's hair and giggled, beginning to relax on the wild ride. It was very hard to be afraid when the person next to you is having such a ridiculously good time.

The two were watching as each door went by, then suddenly Wonka looked up. "Hold it!" shouted Wonka again. The boat jerked to a stop. "Here we are!" he said getting out of the boat, "The Inventing Room!" He gave Charlie a hand, then another as he pulled the boy out of the boat, slipping and sliding and trying to keep balance. It was rather difficult, you see, with the floor so wet with chocolate. They made their way up to the door, and Wonka pulled out his key ring, jingling them noisily as he did. He began to fumble for the right one. "Here it is," he said with a smile, then he eyed it, "Here it isn't." He kept searching, and Charlie waited patiently by his side. "Where's that gosh darned key?" he mumbled frustrated. Finally, he grasped a key, and grinned as it clicked in the doorway. "Now follow me," he said opening the door.

Charlie beamed as he entered the marvelous room, feeling as if he were on a tour again, following this man with a cane and silly hat, being amazed every moment his eyes were open.

Wonka walked up to a bubbling pot, and took up a pair of tongs from the table. Wearing a bright white grin, he ever so carefully lowered them into the pot, and took out a small white round sweet with yellow spirals going up the side. "Now this is something I've been working on for quite a while," he said cheerfully, "I call it. . . a 'Nightlight Sweet'." He paused as if to let it soak in, still smiling excitedly. "Guess what it does! _Guess!_" Charlie bit his lip, restraining himself from laughing, and played along.

"Does is. . . glow?"

"Wrong!" Wonka giggled. He looked at it again. "You see, ya suck on it, and it makes _you_ glow! Tiny little beams of light come out of your tiny little eyes, right on through your pupils! For children who like to stay up past their bedtimes and read under the covers. And it works for hours, as long as you don't chew it, which'll be hard since it's so gosh darned good lookin'," he explained proudly.

Charlie waited. "And is it. . . right?" he inquired after a moment, already guessing the answer. Wonka looked up, kind of coming back from his own little world. He opened his mouth a little, about to say something, then replied, "Well not quite. You see an oompa loompa tried one yesterday and, well. . ." Just then an oompa loompa walked up wearing a pair of sunglasses.

Charlie looked at the little loompa. "What's wrong with him?"

Wonka took out a pair of goggles and handed them to Charlie, putting a pair on himself. Charlie placed them over his eyes and everything went dark.

"I. . . can't see a thing!"

"Good." Wonka replied. Suddenly there was a huge flash of light that Charlie had to shield his eyes from even with the bug eyed goggles on. After it was over, Charlie removed the glasses, rubbing his eyes, and looked down at the oompa loompa, who was straightening his own sunglasses. Wonka took off his as well, blinked, then looked over at Charlie. "Hasn't quite worn off yet," he said with a nervous giggle.

"Oh!" he cried after a moment, his attention completely drawn to something new. He ran up to a glass container sitting on a counter, lifted the lid and snatched a little red pea sized candy. He turned around to face Charlie, holding up the sweet. "These are vocal suckers!" he announced grinning broadly. "You suck down one of these little boogers, and for the next hour, your voice will be higher," he lightened his voice, "or lower," he deepened his voice, then giggled, obviously amused by himself. "And!" he added, raising a finger, "it's completely ready for eating! No. . ." he paused, glancing around, "side-effects." He bit his lip. Charlie thought of Violet Beauregard, a girl on the tour who had tried a stick of Wonka's prototype chewing gum and turned into a blueberry (a very large one at that). He shuddered. Charlie had sworn off chewing gum for the rest of his life that day, but it hadn't lasted. Not long after the tour, after Charlie had taken up Wonka's offer, though after a few negotiations and a trip to the dentist, and moved into the Chocolate Factory, Wonka had finally debugged his meal gum.

"Please?" Wonka had begged. "Please please please please please please? Please? An oompa loompa tried it yesterday! He was fine! It's perfect now I promise! I want you to be the first person to have it!" His voice had been so hopeful, Charlie couldn't say no. Besides, he trusted his friend. After all, Mr. Wonka _had_ told the girl it wasn't quite right. Hesitantly, Charlie had taken the gum and popped it with one motion into his mouth. _Better do this before I change my mind_, he'd thought. As the first meal up, Charlie announced it with surprise. "Tomato soup. . . you really can feel it hot down your throat." Wonka grinned. ". . . And there goes the roast beef. . . and the potatoes. . ." Charlie had taken a sharp breath then, looking at Wonka, "Hot. . ." he'd exclaimed, causing Wonka to bounce a little with excitement. Charlie had waited for the desert, blueberry pie. This was where things had gone so horribly wrong with little Violet. As he began tasting it, Charlie shut his eyes. When the flavor was wearing off, he opened them slowly, looking at Wonka who had no longer been wearing a smile, but looking quite concerned and staring at Charlie nose. Charlie had gasped. But Wonka had burst out laughing and shaking his head, "I'm kidding! I'm only kidding! I didn't mean to give you such a fright! But, you're fine! See!" He had pulled out a mirror from who knows where and held it in front of Charlie, who had inspected himself thoroughly, seeing no sign of blue anywhere. "Told ya!" Wonka had squeaked. Charlie had looked back up, then slowly grinned from ear to ear and ambushed his friend with a loving hug and sigh of relief, causing a flinch, a gasp, a giggle, and an awkward but happy returned embrace from Wonka.

Charlie laughed a little remembering. Then shook himself back to reality as Wonka began to talk again. "There's just one teensy tiny little fault I've got to look into." Wonka looked blankly at Charlie, then turned his gaze down at the floor. Without hesitation he dropped the little candy, which crashed amazingly through the ground, followed by a series of crunches and eventually a far way, "Ouch!"

"Sorry!" Wonka called down, then looked back up at Charlie, who was gawking at the hole the tiny little candy had made. "The formula's still a bit 'unstable'," he said with a straight face, then looked down at the hole again, actually looking quite amused. "It's just weird. And when an oompa loompa'll try one, goes right through 'em every time," he said, smothering a snicker. Mr. Wonka and Charlie stood looking at the hole for a moment. Charlie could see the other floors below, as well as dozens of little oompa loompas scurrying about working diligently on whatever Wonka had assigned them, a number of them already boarding up the holes.

"Anyway," said Wonka finally, shrugging. He tapped his cane on the rim of his hat. "I intend to have that fixed soon." He stood there looking around the room at all the crazy inventions whizzing around, as did Charlie out of pure curiosity of what the man would do next. He froze for a split second, then turned around and opened a drawer immediately behind him, and took out a pack of chewing gum, smiling. Charlie winced a bit. Wonka's shoulders sagged. "Now, you're not still worked up over that whole blueberry incident are you? My meal gum is perfectly fine now; it's out in the candy shops and everything!" He put his hand to his forehead. "You know, it's all such a blur to me now anyway. . ."

"Oh?" said Charlie sarcastically, "I remember it _quite _clearly." He counted his fingers. "Little girl tries gum, little girl blows up, little girl leaves with blue skin." He looked up at Wonka, who wasn't smiling anymore.

"I told her it wasn't right," he said softly.

Charlie felt bad. "Sorry."

"Well. . ." began Wonka, acting like he'd shaken it off, but still having a bit of a hurt tone in his voice, "this gum is perfect. No flaws, no flinches, zip, zero, zinc."

"Zinc?"

"Zinc. Absotively, posolutely. In fact the first shipments are due to the candy shops tomorrow morning. It's in the fridge, daddio."

Charlie screwed up his face. "What's it do?"

Wonka's eyes brightened, which made Charlie feel better. He hated it when Wonka was down. It gave you a horrible feeling, the same feeling you get when it's raining on your birthday (unless you like rain, then it's the same feeling you get when it's not raining on your birthday). "Well it's like my normal gum, only these super bubbles act like hot air balloons and lift you into the air!" He looked down at the gum. "It takes you up nice and high (though not too high, so your mommies and daddies don't need to go looking for you at suppertime), and when you want down, you simply prick a little hole, and instead of popping all at once, these bubbles will slowly deflate, bringing you softly to the ground." He demonstrated and let his purple gloved hand softly flutter down.

Then he looked up at Charlie for a moment, as if about to say something, then changed his mind and looked down at the gum. Charlie smiled and held out his hand, which spread a wide smile over Wonka's face as he gave a stick to the boy. "I promise it's fine," he reassured. Then he paused. "I'd never give anything to you if I was not absolutely sure it was completely right," he said softly, surprising even himself by the affection that for some reason came out in his voice. Charlie nodded and looked down at the gum, then stuck it in his mouth. He didn't doubt it would work, after all when Wonka got things down they were brilliant. There was just that easy to understand feeling of concern deep in the pit of his stomach that he couldn't shake off. But Charlie had faith his friend, looked up to him, and trusted him with all this heart. Besides, even if sometimes things didn't go the way Mr. Wonka planned, his clever little oompa loompas would do the best to their ability to make things right again, which was as much as Charlie could ask for.

Slowly Charlie chewed. Then he looked at Wonka with a mischievous smile. "Why don't you ever try your own candies?"

"Ech. I don't much care for gum." Wonka smacked his lips and frowned.

"Wha. . .?" Charlie giggled. "Then why do you make it!"

"Well little kiddies like you like it don't ya? _I'm_ not the one buying my own sweets!"

Charlie rolled his eyes hilariously, and began to blow a bubble. He blew it bigger and bigger, with nothing happening for a moment. But then as softly and certainly that you would have missed it had you blinked, Charlie's feet were lifted off the ground as he gracefully began to float up into the air. He went up higher and higher, then looked down at the bouncing Mr. Wonka, clapping gleefully below. Charlie giggled. From here, Charlie began to get a good look at the amazing machines Wonka had in his Inventing Room, some even flying over his head, missing him by an inch. Charlie gasped, lifting his feet as he went through what looked like a giant windmill with purple spheres at the end. As Charlie reached a good height, Wonka put his hands around his mouth. "Pop it! Pop it!" he called excitedly. Charlie looked down nervously then poked a little hole in the bubble with his index finger. He sighed thankfully as he gently began drifting down to the ground, just as Wonka had said. He reached the floor by Wonka, who was thrilled.

"How was it? Was it too high, or should I make it go a bit higher perhaps? Oh, I'm so glad it worked right! I mean I knew it would work right, but I so glad it worked right anyway! But how was it?" he spit out in one breath.

Charlie smiled. "It was amazing!" he giggled, "I was so fun, it was like I had wings. It was just brilliant, Mr. Wonka."

"Isn't it just?" squealed the beaming Wonka. "You looked rather worried going up, but then you got in high air. Oh, it went so gracefully! I just can't-"

THhu**D_UNK!_**

Charlie ran over to help him up, as the man toppled over after running into a clear glass cube in front of him.

"Are you okay?" Charlie knelt down next to the man on the floor, who sat up and looked around. He looked at the Glass lift in front of him, then frowned. "Who put this here?"

Charlie giggled and offered Wonka his hand, who was hesitant to the human contact, but eventually took it with trust and staggered to a standing position. "I don't know," laughed Charlie, brushing off Wonka's top hat, which had toppled off in his fall, and handed it to his friend, who straightened it on thankfully. "But we'll get 'em."


End file.
